When Caleb Went Missing

 

But Jesus said, “Let the little children come to Me, and do not forbid them; for of such is the kingdom of heaven.”

─Matthew 19:14

 

It’s taken me months to write about this. In fact, it was so upsetting to me that I didn’t even journal about it. But in light of this nation’s recent tragedies, I think it’s time to share my brush with child loss that occurred sometime this last summer.

 

It was a beautiful, blazingly hot day, I think sometime in August. My youngest son, Caleb, and I decided to head to Keizer Rapids Park, the nearest hiking opportunity.   We both love to hike, especially if there’s some water involved, which at this park is the Willamette River.  There’s also lots of foliage and ample places for evil to lurk and hide. Of course such a suspicious thought didn’t occur to me until after I couldn’t find Caleb.

 

The Dirt Slide

We were at the back part of the park nearing the edge of paved portion of the trail. The pavement gave way to dirt paths strewn with river rock and tall, brown grasses growing along the sides of the path. Just before the pavement ends was a side trail, it was dirt and very steep but relatively short. It led to a landing very close to the river’s edge. Caleb wanted to go down this trail because it looked like fun. And why not, it was like a natural slide, what little boy wouldn’t want to slide down such a cool dirt slide. I figured it was okay and I’d follow right behind him. However, kneeling down to ready myself for the slide, my neck ached reminding me that such a jaunt would be unwise with a tender triple fusion. So I told Caleb to stay right where he was at the foot of the path while I went around to a less challenging path not 30 seconds away.

 

“Okay, Dad,” he said.

 

So I hustled off to the other path that cut through a dense blackberry thicket and came out right where Caleb should have been.

 

But he was gone.   

 

At first I was perturbed thinking he was just hiding somewhere, but he was nowhere to be found in the nearby bushes. I quickly scanned the landing area and saw nothing but grass, dirt, and the river. Now the first tendrils of panic started tugging at the fringes of conscious thought. I wanted to yell out his name but didn’t, thinking that if he were safe I didn’t want to alert any would-be pedophiles that a little boy was running around unattended.

 

I shot up the steep path, slipping, falling, and clawing my way to the top. Nothing, no Caleb. I ran the steps I had trod thinking maybe he misunderstood my instructions and followed me down the other path. But circling back to where he should have been again turned up nothing.

 

Not My Child

Now I began fighting back visions of calling in an Amber Alert. Not my little boy, not my family, no way, this is not happening! I rebuke those thoughts. Still they kept flashing like sinister light bulbs of a demonic paparazzi. Amber Alert, Amber Alert, Amber Alert…

 

Statistically I know that the first 20 minutes of a child abduction are the most critical.  So far I calculated we had clicked off five minutes and still no blonde haired, hazel eyed little boy. I ran to the river’s edge but saw and heard no thrashing. There was a teenage boy on a rocky outcropping looking like he was crawdadding.  I called out to him.

 

“Hey, hey you,” he looked my way. “Have you seen a little blonde boy running along the edge?” I’m sure he could hear the desperation in my voice.

 

“No, man; sorry. Haven’t seen anyone ‘cept you.”

 

“Okay, thanks.”

 

Oh God, I need You now..WHERE IS MY LITTLE BOY?? You’ve got to help me!!

Panic was becoming very real now through a pounding pulse, sweaty palms and horrible thoughts of what evil could be unleashed on such an innocent soul. “No,” I screamed to myself. I had to stay calm; I had to stay as focused as possible if I had any hope of seeing my little boy alive and in my arms again.

 

Along with agonizing prayer I also had a Building 429 lyric repeating in my mind; for some reason, I found the lyric calming, helping me remain focused on the unfolding tragedy:

 

“All I know is I’m not home yet/This is not where I belong. Take this world and give me Jesus/This is not where I belong.”

 

Another refrain from the song also echoed over the Amber Alert fears:

 

“When the earth shakes, I wanna be found in You/When the lights fade, I wanna be found in You.”

 

I started running down all the nearby paths, but there were so many, how was I to choose the right one? If I took path A and the pedophile took path B, I may very well never see Caleb again. O God, where do I go?

 

I broke down and started yelling his name at the top of my lungs, “Caleb, Caleb, where are you? Caleb?” I figured bad guys might now know he’s unattended but then so would any good guys—if there were any. Normal adults are always willing to help a lost child, aren’t they?

 

Mom

Coming up on fifteen minutes and still no Caleb I was confronted with the crushing decision to call the police, or worse, Janey (my bride and Caleb’s Mom). It was the worst phone call I’ve ever had to make.

 

“Hello,” she answered in her typically sweet voice. I’m sure she was expecting to hear that we had a good time and were heading home. Instead, she heard,

 

“We’re still at Keizer Rapids and Caleb’s missing.”

 

“What?! What do you mean?”

 

I was running down different paths while talking to her, so my voice was breathless and jerky. “I mean we got separated and I can’t find him. He’s missing and I can’t find him.”

 

What would you do if you got this phone call? Right in the middle of grocery shopping with her mother she dropped everything, “I’m coming there right now.”

 

“Okay, if he isn’t with me by then, we’ll have to call the police.”

 

Silence, she was on her way.  So I kept running down forest lined trails and grass lined trails. I went near the river hoping not to find a body and then running back toward the forested area of the park.

 

Breathless, I came up to a woman on the paved path walking her large dog.

 

“Have you…have you seen a little blonde boy with an explorers vest on,” I panted.

 

Pulling her dog a little closer she said, “Yeah, I saw him near the parking lot. He smiled and said ‘hi’ to me. …”

 

She kept talking but I started sprinting, calling a quick “Thank you” over my shoulder as I quickly decided which trail was the quickest to parking lot, which was close to a mile away.

 

Now because of my neck fusion, I don’t sprint anymore, it’s too much jolting on the fusion site; but fusion be damned, I sprinted faster than I’ve probably ever sprinted before. Panting and sweating, I was also yelling his name, “I’m coming Caleb, Daddy’s coming.”

Sweet Reunion

Rounding past the last corner on side of the amphitheater I saw him at the top of the grassy hill bordering the back part of the theater bowl. Seeing me he started running my way—his eyes wide with fright. I grabbed him, hugging him as hard as I safely could without knocking him over or squeezing his air out. He was sobbing, I was sobbing.

 

“I’m sorry, Daddy, I’m sorry,” he gasped, his little body shaking in my arms.

 

“It’s okay, Caleb, it’s okay. We’re together now, we’re together now; praise God.”
 

We hugged and cried. People walking by just stared at us, having no clue about the drama that had been playing out right under their noses. I called Janey, a wonderful, relieving phone call!

 

“I FOUND HIM,” I yelled into her ear.

 

She started crying along with Caleb and I. What a site we were, father and son sobbing into an Android!

 

She was still going to come to the park but I told we were going to get the heck out there and come home, so we’d all meet back up there. Once home we all hugged and sobbed right there in the drive way under the sweltering August sun. Finally catching my breath I went inside and collapsed on the couch, completely spent.

 

I will never think of parenting the same again. It is a privilege. Now I have a deeper understanding of the Psalm:

 

Behold, children are a heritage from the Lord, the fruit of the womb is a reward.

̶ Psalm 127:3

 

I’m also reminded of Romans:

 

Weep with those who weep.

̶ Romans 12:15b

 

I tell this story to encourage and inspire parents to love your children. It isn’t pampering or coddling, it is loving them, blessing them, teaching them, cherishing them. For as we all know, some of our brothers and sisters have recently lost their children in the most unimaginable way. And part of my story is to help us begin to grasp even a wisp of the emotions and pain these parents are feeling in the depths of their loss. 

 

In light of their unimaginable loss, one thing we can do is to love our children all the more. Those that commit domestic violence—stop! Those who ignore or withdraw—get engaged. But whatever our story, we can all love our children, and thereby, perhaps we can love each other just a little more as well. We can lay aside our differences and embrace that we are all part of the family of humanity, we all hurt, but we can also all love. He so loved, so can we (John 3:16 and 1 John 4:19).

 

And this love begins at home. We can be salt and light and be like Jesus by loving more. If we learn nothing else, may we at least learn to love.

Afterword—What Actually Happened

Caleb wanted to play a trick on me so he clambered back up the dirt slide to circle around behind me. Problem was he got distracted by a bird or squirrel; by the time he finally got back to the foot of the dirt slide, I had already scampered up it looking for him. Talk about a vicious circle! His response was to again climb up the hill, but once at the top of the hill, he ran down a different path thinking I had gone down a different path looking for him. Thus began the most agonizing twenty minutes of each of our lives.

To have prevented this I could have slid down the hill with him or told him he couldn’t slide down the hill but instead follow me down the easier path. Given my inner-boy, I will probably choose the former should I be in the same situation again.